


Breaking Through

by teacuphuman



Series: Warrior [2]
Category: Inception (2010), Warrior (2011)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, But they're assholes in love, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Roleplay, Tommy confronts his issues, sexual therapy, they're both still assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: Tommy confronts his intimacy issues with a little sexual therapy and roleplay.





	Breaking Through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kate_the_reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/gifts).



> This is for katythereader who is amazing, and supportive, and the best beta in the world! She won a fic from me in the Inceptiversary Comment Contest and she asked for Tommy exploring his inability to top or take control during sex with Arthur. This is just a little snippet in his exploration of that. There will be more Tommy/Arthur in the furture!
> 
> I should mention that this fic takes place after the events in Through the Darkness. Tommy and Arthur are trying out some roleplaying to help Tommy become more comfortable with being assertive in their relationship.

Tommy is tired and sore, his body still recovering from the night’s fight. He’d won, but Muchado had given him a run for his money and the match lasted longer than usual. That was hours ago and now he’s stuck with the aches and strains of a competitor who wasn’t afraid of pushing Tommy to his limits and then some. 

 

He’s on a layover in Chicago at the airport hotel and he knows if he doesn’t go downstairs to eat he’ll end up falling asleep waiting for room service and then waking up with his muscles cramping in protest. He needs protein and fat to help his body recover, and he’d left Vegas in too much of a hurry to eat. It’s not that he hates Las Vegas, he just feels hollow when he’s there.

 

The restaurant is already closed and the bar is busy, but Tommy finds a table in the back corner and orders some pasta with three grilled chicken breasts and a side of sweet potatoes. The waitress calls him sir and brings him a jug of ice water without him having to ask. There’s a good chance she knows who he is and Tommy appreciates more than he can say that she keeps it to herself.

 

He glances around the bar, not looking for company, but knowing there’s no harm in keeping his eyes open. He’s been out publicly for over a year and it has its benefits. No hurried, anonymous hook-ups in bathrooms, no panic over someone figuring out who he is and outing him. Tommy feels more secure and settled with himself than ever before and he thinks he might just have enough energy for the dark eyed man at the bar who keeps looking his way.

 

The guy is in a tailored suit that seems like it would look good on the floor of Tommy’s hotel room. He’s coiffed and barely wrinkled and Tommy thinks his shoulders would fit nicely between Tommy’s knees. 

 

Five years ago, Tommy wouldn’t have been able to even think things like this without guilt and shame beating him down, but coming out has helped him come to terms with himself much in the same way as prison had. He’s been forced to admit his truths in order to survive, and he’s no longer afraid to ask for what he wants, and the way the guy is looking at him, Tommy thinks he could ask for a lot.

 

Tommy’s meal arrives along with a glass of scotch.

 

“I didn’t order that,” Tommy tells the waitress.

 

“That’s for me,” a deep voice says, the warmth and richness of it curling through Tommy. The guy from the bar is standing across the table, smirking at him. The waitress looks between the two of them and scampers off. “I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me.”

 

Tommy shrugs and swirls his pasta on his fork.

 

“Guy next to me was getting a little handsy and I don’t mess with married men,” the guy explains, sitting down across the table.

 

Tommy raises his eyebrow and pushes the glass of scotch closer to him. He’s hungry and the guy seems more than happy to carry the conversation, so Tommy lets him, nodding and humming at the appropriate places.

 

“How was Vegas?” the guys asks.

 

Tommy pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth and narrows his eyes at the guy.

 

“You have a stamp for Drai’s on the inside of your wrist,” he explains. “You don’t look like a club guy, though.”

 

“Got dragged there by a friend,” Tommy tells him.

 

“Ah,” he nods and sips his drink. “Enjoy all the pretty young things?”

 

Tommy shrugs. “S’nice to look at sometimes.”

 

“Sometimes?” the guys chuckles.

 

“I usually like something a little older,” Tommy says, letting his eyes roam over the guy’s shoulders and chest. “Something more experienced and sturdy.”

 

The guy swallows thickly and a faint flush creeps up his neck. “Oh yeah? You looking for something like that tonight?”

 

“No,” Tommy says, flashing his teeth. “Already found it.”

 

The guy sucks in a sharp breath and adjusts himself discreetly in his seat.

 

“You got a name?” Tommy asks.

 

“Do I need one?” The guy smirks, but the effect is ruined by the eager look in his eyes.

 

“Helps keep you in line once I start distracting you.”

 

The guy laughs. “I have a feeling you’re going to be a big fucking distraction.”

 

Tommy shrugs. “I rarely get complaints.”

 

“I bet. It’s Arthur. Do I get to know yours?”

 

Tommy signals the waitress for the cheque to hide his nerves. He’s not used to being this forward and sometimes he has to fight not to fall into old patterns. There’s so much he wants to do to Arthur, so much he wants to give him, but he has to play it cool. Keeps the upper hand and not cave into his desire to have Arthur take over. Tommy can do this, he can. He can be the assertive one. He can lead this and ask for what he knows he wants.

 

“Tommy,” he grunts. “Put his bill on my tab,” he tells the waitress, signing the receipt. He plucks the woman’s order pad out of her apron and scribbles a note of thanks on a blank page, signing it with little fanfare and handing it back. She grins widely and thanks him quietly before rushing off.

 

“You somebody important, then?” Arthur asks, eyeing him closely.

 

Tommy drains his water glass and crushes the ice between his teeth. “Nope.”

 

Tommy follows Arthur out of the bar, enjoying the view of his ass while Arthur leads them to the elevators. His pants are tight and the crease is impeccable and Tommy can’t wait to mess him up a little. Maybe pop a button or two off his shirt and scratch his nails down the pale skin of Arthur’s back. Suck a mark into his skin and leave bruises on his inner thighs. He wants to paint Arthur with proof that Tommy was there with him.

 

“I’m on seven,” Arthur says when the elevator doors open.

 

Tommy presses the button for nine and leans against the wall, letting his eyes wander over Arthur’s body.

 

“You’re pretty,” Tommy tells him, cupping himself lightly through his pants.

 

“You like pretty guys?” Arthur asks, loosening his tie. His fingers are long and thin and Tommy wants to taste them.

 

“I like you.”

 

“Good,” Arthur blushes, tossing his tie to Tommy. “I like you, too.”

 

Tommy snorts. “I should hope so.”

 

He closes the space between them, wrapping the strip of silk around his hand like he’s tapping up for a fight. He drags his nose over Arthur’s cheek, feeling Arthur’s shuddering breath against his chin.

 

“How attached are you to that suit?” he asks, his lips training over Arthur’s cheekbone. 

 

“Not at all,” Arthur breathes.

 

The elevator stops and the doors open on a ding.

 

“Hmm, might keep it as a souvenir, then,” Tommy whispers and walks out. He hears Arthur stumble after him and he’s pulling out his card when Arthur’s hands ghost over his lower back, curving around his waist, fingers hungry and searching as he gropes Tommy.

 

“Jesus,” Arthur says, his mouth hot on the nape of Tommy’s neck as his cock hardens under Arthur’s sure hands.

 

“Tommy,” he corrects with a laugh, opening the door open. He’s barely got it closed before he’s pushing Arthur against it and pressing his tongue into his mouth. Arthur groans and squirms, trying to touch more of Tommy, but Tommy catches his hands and pins them above his head, grinding against him until Arthur throws his head back and moans. Tommy attacks his neck, biting kisses down to his collar. He lets go long enough to rip open Arthur’s shirt, grunting at the satisfying ping of buttons flying off before wrapping his fingers back around Arthur’s wrists and dragging his mouth down Arthur’s chest.

 

“God, fuck, Tommy,” Arthur gasps when Tommy latches onto his nipple and sucks hard. “Your mouth.”

 

Tommy’s first instinct is to keep going, fall to his knees and let Arthur sink his fingers into his hair, urging him faster and closer until Tommy’s swallowing around the length of him. Tommy likes that, he aches for it, but instead he presses two fingers to Arthur’s lips, humming when Arthur opens up and draws them in.

 

“Suck,” Tommy instructs and Arthur’s eyes flutter shut as his cheeks hollow and he works his mouth over Tommy’s thick fingers. Tommy opens his pants, sighing at the release of pressure against his cock and watching Arthur closely. He’s obscene and eager and Tommy wants every part of him right fucking now.

 

“You like that,” Tommy says, his voice rough. Arthur nods, opening his eyes. They’re hooded and dazed, but his attention is completely focused on Tommy and it makes Tommy feel like the only other person in the world. Arthur runs his teeth over Tommy’s fingers as Tommy draws them out and then they’re kissing again, wet and hurried, and Tommy loses himself in it until he feels Arthur’s hand sneak into his open fly and close around his cock.

 

“Eager,” Tommy comments.

 

“Very,” Arthur agrees with a grin. “I wanted to get your hands on me the minute you walked in.”

 

“Hmm, I’m not even touching you,” Tommy notes, looking down at where Arthur’s hand is stroking him.

 

“Tell me how to fix that,” Arthur pants, leaning into Tommy.

 

Tommy kisses his hair, then shoves Arthur back gently. “Strip.”

 

Arthur’s eyes never leaves his as he sheds his clothing, tossing it carelessly to the side until he’s standing in front of Tommy naked, a deep flush from the head of his long, curved cock to the tips of his rounded ears.

 

“Gorgeous,” Tommy growls, pushing Arthur to his knees.

 

Arthur doesn’t hesitate, taking Tommy into his mouth before he’s fully settled. Tommy gasps and thrusts forward, relishing the snort of surprise from Arthur when he chokes a little. Tommy braces himself on the door over Arthur, looking down on his cock sinking into Arthur’s mouth, over and over. Arthur curves his fist around the base, moving his hand in time with his mouth and Tommy drops his head to the cool metal of the door with a groan. 

 

Voices in the hallways pull him away from the slick heat of Arthur’s mouth and he realizes he’s got Arthur caged against the door, struggling to find enough room to keep moving. Tommy pulls back, his cock slipping out of Arthur’s mouth with a wet noise. He grips Arthur under his arms and pulls him to his feet, kissing him hard while he walks them over to the bed. Tommy sits on the edge and presses Arthur down between his legs, the sight reminding him of his thoughts in the bar. He wants to mess Arthur up. More than the plump redness of his lips and the color high in his cheeks. He wants to wreck Arthur.

 

“I’m going to come on your pretty face,” Tommy tells him, guiding him back onto his cock. Arthur moans and sucks until his cheeks are hollowed and Tommy’s seeing stars. Arthur has more room to maneuver like this and he scrapes his nails up Tommy’s thighs, long fingers cradling his balls and rubbing the space behind them.

 

Tommy gasps when Arthur’s tongue slips under his foreskin, rubbing gently around the head and over his slit. He slows down, working Tommy roughly, but thoroughly, like he doesn’t want to miss a single centimeter of Tommy’s cock. Like he’s cataloguing it for future reference. Tommy threads his fingers through Arthur’s hair, breaking up the careful part and pressing his fingertips to his scalp, just trying to hold on. 

 

The soles of his feet start to tingle, heat spiking through his core, right into his groin, and Tommy knows he’s close. He tightens his grip on Arthur's head and pulls him back until the tip of his cock is resting on the swollen curve of Arthur’s lower lip. Arthur jerks him, tight and steady, starting up at him with pupils blown wide and a look of pride so blatant it makes Tommy’s chest ache.

 

Arthur licks his lips, his tongue teasing over the head and Tommy groans as he shakes apart, painting thick white lines across Arthur cheek and nose. Arthur’s mouth is open wide and he tries to catch it on his tongue, but it ends up splattered over his lips and chin, one errant streak crossing his temple and soaking into his dark hair. He’s already a mess and Tommy’s still coming, barely aware of the pleasure coursing through him as he watches Arthur’s face go from anticipation to bliss with every spurt of come that covers him.

 

“Com’ere,” Tommy grunts, hauling Arthur into his lap and kissing him. He tastes himself in Arthur’s mouth and on his skin and he can’t help but trail his fingers through it, rubbing it into Arthur’s skin as he straddles Tommy’s lap and shakes.

 

“Please, Tommy, please. I need,” Arthur begs, making Tommy growl. His arms are wrapped tightly around Tommy’s shoulders and his cock is trapped between them, leaving a trail of wetness over Tommy’s stomach as Arthur ruts against him.

 

“I got you, babe,” Tommy whispers, lowering his hand to rub come-covered fingers around Arthur’s hole. Arthur whimpers and shifts lower, seeking out more contact. Tommy doesn’t tease him, just presses a kiss to his sticky cheek and sinks two fingers in as deep as they’ll go. Arthur keens and his nails bite into Tommy’s skin. Tommy shushes him and closes his other hand over Arthur’s leaking cock, noticing with surprise that Arthur’s tie is still there, wrapped around his fist and adding texture to his movements as Arthur rocks in his lap, moving between Tommy’s hands like waves lapping against the shore.

 

It isn’t long before Arthur’s speeding up, grinding in Tommy’s lap and biting his lip so hard Tommy thinks he might bite right through it. Tommy thrusts his fingers, curling them a little until Arthur cries out and clenches around him. He does it again, and again, and Arthur’s body goes taut, his cock pulsing as he spills over Tommy’s fist and onto his stomach. Arthur doesn’t utter a word and Tommy doesn’t hold back, keeping his hands moving until Arthur’s slumping and shuddering from his touch. 

 

Arthur curves around him and starts laughing, goosebumps rising on his skin as Tommy pulls his fingers out. Arthur pulls back and smiles at him, his face open and happy in a way Tommy knows means Arthur is proud of him. 

 

“You tryin’ to fucking kill me, Riordon?” Arthur asks, kissing Tommy through his smile.

 

“What’d I do?” Tommy asks, squeezing Arthur’s ass.

 

“What’d you do? Jesus Christ, I think I may have actually died there for a minute.”

 

Tommy ducks his head and smiles, pressing soft kisses to Arthur’s clavicle. Arthur’s hands cups his face, forcing him to look up. Arthur’s eyes scan his face, his smile softening into something private and fond.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“You don’t have to ask me that,” Tommy tells him, knowing Arthur know this, but pleased he asked anyway.

 

“I do when I want to hear you say it.”

 

Tommy sighs and runs a hand up Arthur’s back, drying come making his fingers stutter over the knobs of Arthur’s spine. “I am. I liked it.”

 

“Yeah?” Arthur asks. 

 

“Yeah,” Tommy nods, giving him a shy smile. “Feels like progress. Like we’re moving towards something.”

 

“Good,” Arthur says and kisses him. “I, however, feel like locker room floor in a porno about circlejerking. I need a shower.” Tommy laughs as Arthur climbs off him and heads for the bathroom. “Get in here and clean this come out of my hair, and if I lose a single fucking eyelash because of this I’m going to make you clean the gutters once a month for the next year.”

 

“Who says romance is dead?” Tommy laughs and goes after him.


End file.
